Wydra
by murtaghismyhottie
Summary: Eragon!" Kierra yelled in a panic, after having been swept off her feet and thrown across the Urgal captain's shoulders, who was sprinting away with her.
1. Chapter 1

**AN: This story is dedicated to my good friend, mystery writer 5775, because without her, this story may never have come into fruition. I hope it is to everybody's liking. Enjoy! Also, there will probably be a bit of OOCness, mostly on Brom's part. Other than that, enjoy!**

**Wyrda**

**Strangers in Carvahall **

She crept up to the butcher shop as quiet as could be, covered in a hooded cloak, so as not to arouse any suspicion of why she was there. Plus, with the hood, nobody would know it was her, which was an added bonus.

She had just put her hand on the doorknob, ready to push it open when something caught her eye. Two large black hooded figures appeared in the distance, ones whom she didn't quite recognize, but which she had learned to fear over the years. She swore under her breath; her debt with Sloan would have to go unpaid for a little while. She swore louder when a cat in the back of the shop knocked down all the trash bins, making quite a ruckus, and waking Sloan. Taking her hand from the doorknob as he yelled, "Who goes there?" and keeping an eye on the hooded strangers, she turned on her heel and started towards her home, but took a detour through the forest to loose any unsightly visitors.

"Grr..." she mumbled, wondering why everything had to be so hard all of the time. Heavens, she was just going to get some meat from Sloan, and see her debt repaid. But, she thoughtfully considered, jumping over a branch sticking out of the ground, maybe that was her problem to begin with.

She cursed again as a rock went through her shoe, cutting into her foot. Those were new shoes, too!

Looking around, she doubled back, and headed back towards Carvahall, taking the hood off of her only after she had made sure that nobody was following her.

She ended up on the road by the blacksmith Horst's, and nearly ramming right into a young brunette boy. She smiled at him as she caught her breath. "Hi, Eragon." she panted. "How are you?"

He looked at her suspiciously, but shrugged it off and smiled brightly at her. "Hi, Emilee. I'm good. How are you?" he asked, eyes sparkling. "Or maybe I should be asking what your running from?"

Emilee blushed. "I just felt like a nice jog," she replied, sweeping her hair out of her eyes.

Eragon again eyed her suspiciously. "Em, are you okay? You look a little troubled," he said, gently placing his hand on one of her shoulders.

Emilee nodded. "I'm fine, Eragon," she replied, taking a worried glance over her shoulder. "But-"

She was cut off by Roran's yell of, "ERAGON!", which made the two both jump.

"Well, I should be running. If your sure your okay," said Eragon. "Roran's probably wondering where I'm at." he smiled at her and waved over his shoulder.

"Eragon, wait!" called Emilee, walking the few paces to Eragon. "You and Roran be careful. There are dark, robed figures wandering about, and I've heard whispers, but nothing more. Just watch yourselves, okay?"

Eragon looked at her, eyebrows furrowed at her worried tone. She was never usually this serious. "Okay... What's really wrong here?" he walked towards her.

Emilee looked at him for a minute or two, then leaned up and kissed him softly on the cheek. "You and Roran just be careful, and watch your backs." she said, putting her hand on his cheek.

A soft smile formed around Eragon's lips as he lingered for a few moments. "I'll be sure to. As will Roran." he bade her good-bye yet again and turned to leave. He turned back to her, and a huge grin spread across his face as he thought of his best friend trying to steal anything, let alone from Sloan. "And Em, if you're going to steal from Sloan, you need to be a bit more sly."

Emilee blushed, then mumbled as she turned. "I'm going to get an earful, too. Cranky old geezer wouldn't know what fun is if danced naked in front of him."

A searing pain shot through the back of Emilee's head.

"Who are you calling a cranky old geezer?" asked a harsh voice from behind her.

Emilee blushed again as she turned to see him standing there with his staff in hand, with a raised eyebrow, scowling at her. "I thought that was obvious," she said darkly, another hit sending stars dancing around her eyes.

"So," said Brom, sitting on the front porch of his little hut, and frowning slightly, though with a mischievous gleam sparkling in his eyes. "You tried to steal from Sloan again, did you?" he looked up at her as she tried to innocently shrug the accusation off, but at the same time going beet red. He gave a hint of a smile. "What stopped you this time?"

Emilee rubbed her head, and sat down next to him. "Well, mostly it was just a stupid cat that knocked down all his trash bins, and waking the old bat," she said, kicking at the dirt. "But, there were also two robed figures roaming the street. They stopped to talk to Sloan. They were creepy, too. And when I looked at them, I seemed to freeze; so in retrospect, I should be thankful to the cat for startling me enough to move." she looked at him. "What do they want here, dad?"

Brom's eyebrows furrowed. "Two of them?" he asked sharply. "Do you have any idea what they were talking about?"

He pulled her into their hut, and pushed her onto a chair.

She shook her head. "Not really, no. All I heard was one word. Eragon." she said, then pulled off her shoe. "Stupid rock."

Brom sat down. "That what you get for stepping on sharp objects. Now, are you sure you didn't hear anything else?" he pulled her foot from her, washed it and bandaged it up.

Emilee shook her head. "That's all I heard..." she trailed off, noticing something out of the corner of her eye. She turned her head and saw out of the door a person in a deep navy velvet hooded cloak walk past. 'Who could that be?' she wondered.

Brom looked up to see what had caught his daughter's attention, and smiled broadly. About time she should show up. Things were about to get a lot more interesting. He turned back to Emilee. "...Are you even listening to me?" he snapped.

Emilee shook her head. "To tell you the truth, dad, I haven't the foggiest of what you just said." she replied, slightly ashamed at the disappointed look on Brom's face. Ah, if only she knew he was just playing with her. She cast her eyes down to the ground. "I'm sorry. Next time I'll pay closer attention," she mumbled, looking anywhere but at him.

"You had better," chided Brom playfully. "because I'm not always going to be around to guide you."

Emilee kept her eyes on the ground, feeling horrible that she had tuned him out so easily. When did that start happening? Usually her and him were inseparable, best friends, always listening to each other. So, when did she start treating him like he didn't matter anymore? "I'm sorry," she mumbled again. "I guess I just got so preoccupied with being worried about Eragon, Roran and Garrow, especially with those cloaked freaks running around."

Brom's eyes softened. "You're forgetting something," he said, and she looked up at him. "Surprising though it may be, I remember what it was like to be your age. You're young; you shouldn't be worried about-" he cut himself off, shaking his head, looking at her. "I understand your concern for your friends, because your concern is not without foundation. But, if they've managed to take care of themselves this long, I have no dbout they will continue to do so."

She smiled at him. "Thanks, dad." she said, then. "Wait, you were just playing around with me? You didn't really care I wasn't listening?"

Brom let out a chuckle or two. "As I said, I remember what it was like to be your age; everything I was told went in one ear and out the other. So yes, I was, as you state, 'just playing' with you." he said, making her roll her eyes heavenward. "Here, take some money and go shopping. I think you're due for some new boots, and there is that-what is it? Oh, yeah- dress thing, or whatever it is, that you have had your eyes on." he handed her some coins. "And spend it all. I hate it when you come home with change. What type of teenager are you?"

She grinned and jumped up and gave him a hug and a kiss on the cheek. "I'll surely have no problem with that. Thank you dad." and with that she ran out the door, him smiling after her.

**Alrighty, done with chapter one. Yeah, I know Brom is out of character,...A LOT out of character, but I thought he would be better sweet to begin with. Hope ya'll like!**


	2. Secrets Revealed Sort of

**AN: Here is the second chapter; hope ya'll enjoy! And something just occured to me. I misspelled the title of this story onto the internet. It's supposed to be Wyrda, and instead it says Wydra... UGH! Anyway, sorry; just a rant. Enjoy!**

**Wyrda**

**Secret's Revealed... Sort of**

Emilee hurried out the door, seeing if she could catch sight of the velvet hooded figure... but could not.

Letting out a sigh and shaking her head, Emilee wandered around for awhile, doing some window shopping, consdering what she wanted to buy, and what she didn't. She did end up getting some new boots, and determined within herself that she was going to be more careful, and, should she try to steal anything from Sloan again, be a little more sly about it. That last attempt was ringing in her head, taunting her.

She was carelessly wandering the streets, and was about ready to go home, when something caught her eye, and she walked closer to the window in which it was being displayed. Her breath caught in her chest, and she eyed the display with breathless wonder, for, laying in the folds of some delicate silk, spun with the utmost care, was a wonderfully shiny, polished steel sword, the likes of which she had never seen before.

The sword itself was obviously made for a woman, because of the design of it. The hilt was a twist of deep purple and deep pink, with a butterfly shaped out of sapphires at the top in the middle of the hilt. Inlaid into the blade was intricate designs, starting from the bottom of the blade, to the middle, which designs consisted of ivy and butterflies, with some roses, both blooming and fully blossomed, attached to the ivy.

Emilee hurried into the shop to inquire about the sword. It was new, obviously, as was the shop it was being displayed in. It hadn't even been there two weeks, and from the looks of it, they were just starting to put out and showcase their merchandise. It was bound to be expensive, probably more than she had with her, but she just had to know about it.

What she learned from the store owner was quite interesting.

"You mean the sword in the display, right?" the shop owner asked, a pleasant smile on his face, which was quite different from all the other ticks, I mean, shop owners in Carvahall, who were blood thirsty gits, otu to suck you out of all of your money. Of course, upon careful consideration of her accusations, Emilee came to the conclusion that Horst wasn't bad; he was actually quite an honest man, worked hard for his money. Good guy, really. But Sloan... he was the worst, the filthy tick.

Upon Emilee's nod of approval, the owner talked on. "Was just put on display today, actually. Beautiful piece of work, isn't she?"

Emilee, who was looking at the sword, got the bizzare feeling he was not talking about it, turned to ask him something, but stopped as somebody walked in.

Thankful for an excuse to leave her conversation with the shop owner for a bit, because she got the real feeling he was eyeing her up, called out. "Roran!" she walked over to him and gave him a quick hug. "How are you, my friend?"

The boy smiled brightly, but sadly. "I'm good... I think," he sighed. "Okay, I'm not so good."

"Well, then, let's have a sit, and talk," said Emilee, ushering him over to a chair in a corner of the shop. "What is troubling you, Garrowson?"

Roran smiled at the nickname. "Well, it's a long story, but I was offered a job in Therinsford, and I decided to take it." he said, a distant look in his eyes. "Maybe it will help convince Sloan that not all farm boys are trash." he said more to himself. Then he looked at Emilee. "Anyway, the problem is, Eragon's not speaking to me. He's mad I'm leaving, I think."

Emilee smiled gently at him, and looked away with a thoughtful expression. "Well, let's see. The only thing he has that even resembles a brother is leaving for Therinsford, and leaving him to farm with Garrow alone," she said. "I can see where he'd be angry." she turned her gaze to Roran again. "I'm sure he will be just fine with it; give him some time, he will come around. You are, after all, his brother in spirit. Letting you go into the unknown is probably scary for him."

Roran looked at Emilee, and his smile brightend by her words. "Thanks, Em." he said, standing up. "I appreciate it. Now, I should get going. I'll want to make up, and, hopefullly leave on good terms with the hard-headed adolescent that is Eragon."

Emilee smiled and hugged him again, this one lasting longer. "Be safe, Roran. And keep in touch." she said, pulling away to look at him. "It sure has been a pleasure growing up with you. Stay safe."

He smiled. "The same to you, Em. The same to you. And don't worry; I'll be sure to keep in touch. Goodbye, my friend, for now." he said, then promptly left the shop.

Emilee sighed after him. Roran was like the big brother she never had, so she was sorely going to miss him. However, she turned to the shop owner. "I'll take that sword,"

He went over to it and slid it into a plain silver sheath and wrapped it up for her. "Here you go, Miss Emilee." and handed it to her.

She went to grab her purse, but the owner declined, saying simply, "A beautiful sword for a beautiful owner. I will not accept payment for this."

Emilee blushed and rushed out of the shop, to a nearby table outside, that was away from the public eye, then opened the box with shaking hands, and took the sheath and sword in her hands. It felt wonderful; it was perfectly balanced, and light enough for her arms not to buckle under its weight, but heavy enough to do loads of damage.

She examined it a bit, and noticed some runes that she went to examine farther, but instead something else caught her eye. Sheathing the sword again, and putting it on the table, she spied a pendant laying within the folds of the silk.

She however didn't get very much time to examine it, because she turned, with sword unsheathed and in hand, just in time to block a blow to her head.

Shoving the person off, Emilee's eyes widened. It was the hooded figure from earlier! She blocked another blow from the figure, who sighed impatiently.

"Don't just stand and admire that pendant! Put it on, it's what its there for!" said a harsh, but feminine voice, putting her sword down and snatching up the pendant and putting it around Emilee's neck, who just frowned. "I was wondering when you were going to go shopping; I was getting impatient. The sword's been here for several days, as have I." the young woman snapped. "You seem to love getting into trouble when it comes to stealing things, but when it comes to paying attention, you are in more trouble than if you had actually stolen a roast from Sloan's."

Emilee examined the young woman before her. She seemed to be about the same age as her, though lacked the common courtesy to act in a friendly manner. She already didn't like her. "Would you kindly quit insulting me and tell me who you are?" she asked through clenched teeth. "And what would bring to Caravhall for days?"

The young woman shook her head. "It's too dangerous here. We must leave," she said, looking round. "The Ra'zac will be here shortly, no doubt, and I don't want to be here to greet them."

Emilee looked surprised. "Ra'zac?" she asked.

"Ah, yes, that you did pay attention to, which I am glad about," the young woman stated, smiling a bit. "I was impressed with how quickly you told Brom; that was a very smart choice of action."

Emilee frowned. "You know my father?" she asked, very confused. Who in Alagesia was this woman?

"I know a lot more about Brom than even you do," stated the young woman. "But come, we must leave, and we must hurry. As I said, I'm not in a very welcoming mood."

"That was obvious," muttered Emilee, under her breath as she buckled her sword to her belt and followed the young woman through town, her mind reeling with questions that she dared not ask. Who was this woman? Where did some come from? Was she trustworthy? How did she know her father? And why in the heck did she, this young woman, snap about that necklace? What importance did it play?

The young woman surveyed Emilee, equally as curious about her. The one thing she did know, though, was that Emilee did not know about Brom's past, or anything to dow ith Brom, actually; which was really troublesome. Why did the old fool have to have a such a soft spot for her? What was so special about Emilee?

The questions were pushed to the back of their minds by a cloud of smoke billowing up from a farm... Garrow's farm!

They both took of running, the adrenaline pumping through each of their blood streams.

"Eragon," muttered the young woman, noticing a young man dragging out an old, barely living man of the wreckage.

Emilee ran over to Eragon to help him. She immediately tossed one of Garrow's arms around her shoulder. "We...should...send...for...help," she panted, taking a few steps forward.

Eragon shook his head. "No...I'm fine." he said, though the young woman could tell otherwise. She went and helped in anyway that she possibly could, examining the young man to the side of her.

"To Carvahall, then," stated Emilee, and off they went, heaving the battered old man with them.

"What happened?" asked the young woman silently, glancing at Eragon, who seemed to stiffen a bit.

He shook his head, tears welling in his eyes. "I don't know. I just... came back from hunting in the Spine, and the house was... well, you saw."

There was a sharp intake of breath from the young woman, who turned to look at Eragon, her hood still obscuring her face. Nevertheless, her words were uttered in utmost sincerity. "I'm so sorry this had to befall you, Eragon."

Eragon just nodded and kept his face forward, limping as he did so.

Emilee looked down, kicking a rock, and cursed when she noticed a trail of blood being left behind as they walked. "What happened to your legs?" she asked.

Eragon looked surprised that she would take notice, though now he thought about it, it was rather obvious. And, plus, he was so busy trying to figure out who this new girl was, he'd forgotten that Emilee was even there. "Nothing I wish to speak about," he said simply, leaving Emilee to wonder and cringe every time she saw a footprint of blood.

Both girls examined Eragon, and both wondered how he was managing to drag Garrow and walk at the same time, with his legs the consistency of shredded beef.

A vein had popped out of his forehead and was throbbing madly, and his face was a mask of strain, frustration, worry, anger and pain as every step caused a little rainfall of blood to cascade down his legs.

Both girls looked at each other, worry and tears glistening in both of their eyes.

By the time they had made it to Carvahall and Gertrude, the town healer, they were dragging Eragon and Garrow both.

The healer ushered them out of the little hut and they both wandered a bit before sitting on a hill and watching the sunset, each lost in thought.

Emilee looked at her pendant more fully and gave a silent gasp. It was the exact shape of the gedwey ignasia. "But I'm not a Rider," she murmured, taking the necklace off and examining it.

"You put that back on!" snapped the young woman, grabbing it from Emilee and putting it back on her. "Keep it on!"

Emilee chuckled. "You sound just like my father." she said softly. Then she looked at her. "Now, why are you here?"

The young girl sighed and nodded. "Alright; I suppose you have the right to know," she said. "There are things that I must explain to you, especially in light of what happened to Eragon." she laughed. "I thought you were going to be more persistant when I told you earlier you were not going to get any answers from me. I've been pleasantly surprised."

"Well, thank you," said Emilee, smiling. "And a good place to begin your story is your name."

She laughed. "So it is," she frowned slightly. "My name is Keirra," she replied, smiling. "And I've been traveling a long time to see you and Eragon and to tell you..." she sighed again. "The Ra'zac are here because of Eragon."

"What?" said Emilee in surprise. "Why? They... wait a second..." she thought for a second. "As far as I know, Galba-what's-his-bucket wouldn't send out the Ra'zac unless he had very good reason... So then, why are they after Eragon?"

Kierra raised her eyebrows. How in the heck...? Wait, Brom was her father, so naturally she would know about the Ra'zac. She shook her head. "Did Eragon ever come in contact with a stone of some sort?"

Emilee's eyes widened. "Wait, that stone wasn't a stone, was it?" she asked in a hushed voice. "It was shaped funny, and oddly finished... it was an egg, wasn't it?"

Kierra nodded. "A dragon egg. I have reason to believe that Eragon is the newest Dragon Rider," she replied.

"That's why the King's after him, then," said Emilee, digesting this. "Okay, then, we must leave Carvahall. I'll go pack my things."

Kierra rolled her eyes. "Hold your horses there, kid. I have to talk to Brom first." she said, standing up. "But you, you need to-"

"Don't tell me what I need to do," snapped Emilee. "I'm going to-"

"No, you're not!" yelled Kierra, rolling her eyes. She could tell already that this venture was going to be LOADS of fun. "Go and swim, or something."

With that, she turned her back on Emilee and went towards Brom's hut, leaving a fuming Emilee behind in her wake.

**Alrighty then. End of chapter two... wahoo! I know, it's kinda boring, kinda just blah, but it'll get better. The beginning is always so...ugh, I guess. But, I've been having fun writing, so we're all good. Chapter three'll be out soon. **


	3. Fate Intervened

**AN: Okay, so this is gonna be a little different than the events in Eragon. A little AUish, if you will, but I hope it will still be enjoyable. Sorry for the delay. I've been having writing wars in my head, and this version of the chapter won out. So, enjoy! **

**Wyrda**

**Fate Intervened **

Flashback

_She held his hand as they walked down the street, talking about life, and where it had taken them. She laughed softly at a comment he made, which was supposed to sound as serious as could be, but, coming from him, sounded like the funniest joke she had ever heard. _

_"How long are you here for this time?" he asked softly as they stopped to sit on a hillside to watch the sunset. He ran his fingers through her soft hair. "I never enjoy our parting." _

_She sighed, and swatted his hand away from her. "Things have changed; my position has changed. I shouldn't even be here to begin with," she snapped, glaring at him. "I cannot decide if I am dancing with death or out of my mind for being here. Either way, I am in trouble." _

_He sighed, and looked away from her. "I know," he said. "And yet, here you are, and here I am. That must mean something." _

_She stood up, putting her hand on her rather swollen stomach. "I have to go, it was wrong of me to come here." she said, turning to leave._

_He stood abruptly, and pulled her into his warm embrace. "You don't have to go so soon," he said in her ear. "Stay until the baby's born. It will be safer that way." _

_She opened her mouth to protest, to say that she could not, that it was more dangerous for her to be gone, when she heard a little cry in the distance. She pulled out of his arms and listened more intently. "Do you hear that?" she asked, looking up at him._

_He shook his head. "I don't hear-" but he cut himself off as he heard the cry again. "Is that a-"_

_"Baby," she cut him off, going towards the source of the sound. _

_Indeed, laying on the forest floor, bundled up in a warm cream colored wool blanket was a baby, not more than two months old, wiggling and screaming its little lungs out._

_He leaned down to pick the babe up. There was no card, no note of any sort, just the baby, bundled up in the blanket. He held it close to him, frowning. "How long has it been here, I wonder?" he asked himself._

_She couldn't help it, she let out a giggle. "Brom, the baby is a girl," she said, putting her hand on his shoulder. "And she cannot have been here that long, she doesn't even feel that cold." she took the babe's hand in hers and smiled at her. _

_Brom handed the baby to her, and then went investigating in the forest, trying to see if he could find who had just suddenly left the baby there, and if he found them, pound the reason out of them. _

_It took little over a half an hour to find them, and he really found them alright, for laying on the forest floor was a young woman, with dark brown locks, with an arrow sticking straight out of her chest._

_He hurried back to the baby, and noticed that it had again been put down on the ground, but this time with a note. He picked her and the note up. __**Thank you for taking such care of me, Brom, I shall never forget you, or the good deeds that you have done. You will always own a piece of my heart, and I'm sure I will yours. Take good care of that baby, Brom; it was brought to you for a reason, and I have no doubt that you will be a great father. With all the care that I can possibly give, **_

_**Destiny **_

End of Flashback

Brom was startled out of his reverie by a knock on the door, which he promptly got up to open. He smiled and ushered the young girl into his home. "So?" he asked, closing the door with a snap, and turned to her. "Good job hiding your ears, by the way. I trust nobody troubled you about it."

Kierra gave a mirthless laugh, waving her hand impatiently. "The people here are blind and attention deaf. The only way they could tell if there was an Urgal attack is if the Urgals stopped in town and danced naked for them." she replied, sitting down. "So, no, I was not troubled."

Brom also took a seat, laughing. "It has been far too long since I've visited with somebody with my own sense of humor." then, after a few more chuckles, he sobered up. "Did you tell her?"

Kierra nodded. "Though I don't know why you couldn't have, it was nothing that important," she sighed. "Why do you want to protect her, Brom? She is your daughter, I know, but, really. Why the secrecy?"

Brom looked around and made sure nobody was eavesdropping on them. He sighed. "What I tell you, I tell only you, and I entreat you not to tell anybody," he went on when she nodded. "Em is not really my daughter."

Kierra looked at him sharply. "What?" she asked in dismay. "Well, then, where did she come from?"

Again, Brom sighed and opened his mouth to say something, when a burning flaming spear was thrust into his hut, and landed a mere six inches from where he was sitting.

Swearing, he went to his closet and pulled out a box, then he and Kierra rushed out of the hut, and pulled out their swords and dodged any and all Urgals that were rushing towards them.

Kierra spotted Emilee fighting with an Urgal, and frowned. "Emilee, run!" she screamed. If anything were to happen to her now, everything that she had lived for would be lost. She slashed at an Urgal, and stabbed another one in his stomach, and using the momentum from pulling her sword from that one's stomach, turned and lopped another one's head off.

Emilee pulled her sword out of an Urgal's stomach, turning and slashing another one's legs off and then stabbing it. "Don't be silly!" she yelled back, lopping off another one's head, and then stabbing another one through the heart.

"Kierra, go and get Eragon!" yelled Brom over the noise, tearing into an Urgal with his own sword, and then slicing another two in half.. "Make sure he stays in one piece! Emilee-" he cut himself off as he saw somebody on a black horse swoop down and grab the young brunette up and dash away with her. He swore loudly and made to go follow her, but too many Urgals were in the way, and the figure rode quickly. "Be safe, young one," he muttered, then looked around frantically for any sign of Kierra and Eragon.

He caught a glimpse of them out of the corner of his eye as he was being surrounded by Urgal's, which he slashed through, and made his way, slowly but surely to where Kierra was pulling Eragon, a deep well of anxiety burning into his stomach, and she had only been out of his sight for ten minutes at most. He sighed. This was going to be a very long and very lonely road ahead; he hoped he was prepared for it.

**So, here is this chapter. Sorry for the delay. I've been having writer's block and all that jazz. It wasn't as exciting as I had hoped, but it wasn't as bad as I was anticipating, either. SO, anyway, I hope it was enjoyed, and I'll post the next chapter soon! **


	4. Agitation

**AN: Okay, so this is gonna be a little different than the events in Eragon. A little AUish, if you will, but I hope it will still be enjoyable. Sorry for the delay. I've been having writing wars in my head, and this version of the chapter won out. So, enjoy! **

**Wyrda**

**Agitation**

"What's going on?" asked Eragon as Kierra pulled him off behind a building, so maybe, hopefully, they could have some minutes of peace. The Urgals seemed to be slowing down, but they still kept a steady pace; and at the rate they were going, Carvahall would likely soon be destroyed, a fate that saddened Kierra, but lit a spark in her soul at any rate. If this experience was good for anything, one single thing, it was to see just what kind of monster Galbatorix was, and gain from that the determination to put him out of everybody else's misery.

"I thought that was obvious," snapped Kierra, looking around the building, and then pulling him towards a woodsy edge of town. "But, let me spell it out for you. We got attacked by Urgals."

Eragon rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I got that. But, why?" he asked, looking around; the only dead bodies laying around on the ground were those of the Urgals. They seemed to have come for one purpose, and one only; and everything else was just trivial. There were a lot of houses burned down, but at least nobody was seriously injured, which he silently thanked the heavens for. He turned back to Kierra, who had pulled a pair of leather bags out of a nearby bush and watched as she started packing them with various things that she had been hiding in the bushes. "Planning on going somewhere?" he raised an eyebrow.

Kierra rolled her eyes heavenward, but was interrupted by a gruff voice catching up to them. "We all are, Eragon." said Brom, his voice weary, for once showing his own age. "And we must be going quickly. Here." he handed Eragon a bag full of supplies, and the reigns to a beautiful, healthy looking horse. "Should last us until our next stopping point, if we're lucky." he slid onto his own horse, Kierra following suit.

"Well, then, where are _**we **_going?" asked Eragon, sliding the bag onto his shoulder, and looking back. _Ugh, I hate this. This is my home, these are my family. These people are all I have. _

A gentle voice came through his mind. _I know; but we must do what must be done, little one. Its hard to understand at the time, but you'll see that this is for the best. _

Eragon smiled, and slid into the saddle of the horse. _So it is. I just hope that __**SHE **__doesn't kill me before our journey's through. _he said, glancing at Kierra, who again rolled her eyes heavenward.

A soft frown formed around Eragon's lips; this constant silence was going to drive him mad. "So-" he began, but the ever feisty Kierra cut him off.

"Can't you just trust us, Eragon?" she snapped, then looked around. "Call your dragon,"

"Excuse me?" said Eragon, anger and astonishment lacing his voice. _How did she know I have a dragon? _he thought to himself.

Brom smiled. "Do as she says, Eragon, call your dragon," he said gruffly. "We want to meet her."

Eragon rolled his eyes. "Fine," _Saphira, they want to meet you. _

_Coming right up, little one, _came the reassuring voice of his dragon, and a few minutes later she was swooping into the glade.

Kierra smiled for what seemed like the first time that day. "She is beautiful," she murmured, grinning as Saphira gave her a fierce glare. "Not to mention feisty, too." she turned to Eragon. "What did you say her name was?"

Eragon rolled his eyes. "I didn't," he retorted, then turned to Brom. "Now that I have shown you my dragon, will you please tell me what is going on here?"

Brom just sighed and shook his head. "Sorry, Eragon, we can't talk about it here. It will have to wait; in the meantime, we shall need to make a saddle for your dragon."

_Saddle? _Saphira asked Eragon, with a hint of agitation. _What does he take me for, a common pack mule?_

Eragon knitted his eyebrows. "Saddle?" he asked, confused.

Kierra looked at him. "You have got to be joking me. The entire fate of Alagasia rests in the hands of... of a...complete idiot!" she raged, shaking her head. "What do you think the saddle would be for, Eragon?" she thought about this, then. "You know what? At this moment, you are no longer worthy of your name in my eyes. If, on a later day you can prove to me that your name actually fits you, then I shall call you as such; until then, though, I shall call you... well, _you._"

Brom chuckled as he slid back into the horse's saddle. "Eragon," he said gruffly, "one of these days you will have to learn to ride Saphira; and, since we do not wish for the flesh of your legs to be shredded off by her scales, a saddle will be in order. But, lets go."

Eragon rolled his eyes, and commented to Saphira dryly, _This should be wonderful,_

The dragon simply bared her teeth in what could be assumed to be a grin.

**Okay, there is that chapter for now. I know its a little boring, but I thought it was fun. Personally, I enjoy seeing Kierra insult Eragon, because Eragon is just so easy to pick on. I promise there'll be more action in the next chapter. I'm still not sure where I want to go with this, but I'm working on it. So, hope you enjoyed! **


	5. Average? No Way!

**Wahoo, two chapters in one day! Wow, that must be a record for me! Anyway, I hope you enjoy! **

**Wyrda **

**  
Average? No way! **

Emilee struggled with the arm that held her secure in the saddle. She would be the first to admit that she was scared; not only because she was on a horse with some strange person that was holding on to her a little too tight, but also because she was frightened for Eragon, Brom and Kierra. It had been a fierce battle with the Urgals before she had got scooped up, and now she didn't know how it had turned out.

Hot and cold sweat was pouring down her forehead and her cheeks as she tried to get the grip of this person to loosen a bit. It seemed however, the more she struggled, the more he held on, and the less leaway she was getting. Her heart pounded in her chest, pumping adrenaline through her whole body, though she was powerless to act upon it. For the first time in her life she felt cold, hard and vicious fear wrap itself around her, clutching her in an iron tight grasp, slowly squeezing until all the hope she had was squeezed out of her.

Her eyes welled with tears that she refused to let fall. Hey, she may be on her way to death, but she still had dignity, and was not about to cry in the face of the death that would just mock her anyway. She was going to be strong, brave and valiant, just like her father had raised her to be; even if she was on the way to death. She was going to take it as gracefully as she could, and accept the fact that she was going to die.

And then, it happened. It took a split second, but it felt like an eternity. The horse on which she was being held stalled and the rider fell to the left, an arrow sticking out of his chest, his eyes cold, gray and lifeless as he hit the ground.

Without the man to hold her, Emilee fell to the right, and before she could help it, hit her head on a rock. Nevertheless, she rolled right out of the fall, letting the momentum carry her to her feet, and whipping out her sword in one fluid motion, glancing around her surroundings, heart thumping, adrenaline pumping, and mind racing with what had just happened.

"Very nice," said a voice, echoing in the still night air. "I'm impressed. Not many girls would be able to pull themselves out of a fall like that."

Emilee frowned at the comment. "I'm not your average, every day girl," she commented dryly, still glancing around, cringing as blood from the cut on her head seeped into her left eye.

"I can see that," he said, coming into view. "Are you alright?"

She nodded, examining the stranger before her. She could tell that he was quite a bit taller than she was, and wore a dark cloak and hood that covered his face. Other than that she could tell nothing else about him in the poor, fading light. "Thank you," she said quietly.

He chuckled. "If you had quit struggling, I could have gotten to you sooner," he said, taking a step towards her. "But, you were so intent on saving yourself that-"

"What else was I supposed to do?" asked Emilee, rather calmly for her situation. "I didn't think anybody was going to help me."

He chuckled again. "Ah, true." he said, taking another step towards her, and smiled even more when he noticed that her knuckles were white on the hilt of her sword. "Cautious, then? Wise; though had I wanted to kill you, you would still be with fallen horseman over there, or I would have killed you myself, an hour ago." Noticing that she didn't budge, he put his bow down and stepped away from it. "There. You are the one armed, I'm not. Truce?"

Emilee considered this for a moment, then shook her head. "I don't trust anyone I can't plainly see," she said, stubbornly.

He nodded. "Fair enough, then," he replied, then pulled off his hood. "Better?"

She nodded. "Better," she said, taking in his features, to see if he gave any hint of distrust in any of his expressions. Though, truth be told, she was quite taken with his facial structure. Slowly, very slowly, she put her sword back in its sheath. "So, what brings you out this way in the middle of the night?"

He picked up his bow and tossed it over his shoulder. "Rescuing damsel's in distress, apparently," he said shortly, raising an eye brow at her.

She glared at him. "I am not a damsel in distress!" she shot, shaking her head, then added more softly, "At least, not most of the time." She shook her head. "Thank you. I have no idea where he," she pointed to the fallen rider. "was going to take me, and quite frankly, it frightened me."

He smiled softly. "Your welcome," he said, then turned and started walking. He started talking, not realizing that she was still standing there. "We need to get off this road and someplace safe and..." he looked around and rolled his eyes. "Coming?"

Emilee nodded. "Yeah, I'm coming." and hurried to catch up to him, wiping some blood out of her eye. "I'm Emilee, by the way."

He just kept walking. "Murtagh," he mumbled, looking ahead as they walked, a distant gleam in his eyes.

Trying to break the sad mood that had just suddenly dropped over them like a wet blanket, Emilee grinned. "Bless you,"

He stopped in his tracks for a few seconds before rolling his eyes heavenward. "What have I gotten myself into?" he muttered to himself.

"You tell me," replied Emilee, smiling.


	6. Why Me?

**Yay, another update. Wahoo! **

**Wyrda **

**  
Why me?**

_Are you alright, little one? _came Saphira's soothing voice over hers and Eragon's mind link. _You have not spoken all day. _

_I have nothing to talk about, _was Eragon's short reply, as he glanced around at the scenery, which was about the only useful thing he could do.

He stared ahead as black smoke billowed through the trees, and ran towards it, leaping over underbrush and logs, and all manner of scrubby, leafy objects, to get to the black smoke, not even knowing what compelled him to go; he just did, and it was something that he did not question.

He was running, when suddenly he tripped on a branch sticking out from the cold, hard, unforgiving dirt, sending him flying down a hill, landing roughly at the bottom, panting and cringing as he stood up to look around.

As he saw where he was standing, it was as if all the sound in the world was drowned out by the heavy beating of his heart, ringing almost unbearably in his ears. Cold fear wrapped around him, amongst shame, and guilt. He could feel himself yell out, but heard nothing that came out. He could feel his feet start to move, though he had not a single ounce of control over them.

He barreled down the hill, and into the already ashy farm house. He dug his way in, clawing at anything and everything, heart still beating wildly in his chest.

And then, there it was. His uncle, laying there in bloody disarray, the first casualty of his days as a Rider. The only thing that even resembled a father, and he was now gone. "Garrow!" he yelled, digging until his fingers dripped dark, crimson blood, all over the wreckage from the house. "Garrow!"

He sat up with a jolt, gulping in sweet, cool, musky air as if it were the nectar of life. Looking around he noticed, with a sigh of relief, that Brom and Kierra were both still sleeping.

_Are you alright? _came Saphira's concerned and comforting voice. She nudged Eragon with her nose. _You look troubled. _

Eragon put his head in his hands for a minute, breathing deeply, trying, fighting with all his might, to get those wretched images out of his head. _Just a nightmare, _he replied, shaking his head. _About Garrow. _

_Do you want to talk about it? _came Saphira's reply, as she eyed him, edging closer to him in a gesture of comfort. _I am here for you. _

Eragon smiled, and looked at her, putting his hand on her long, blue neck. _I'm fine, _he yawned. _I think I'll go back to sleep for a bit._

_Alright, little one. Sleep well. _Saphira nudged him gently again, trying to be as comforting as she could. The pain still had not left his being, and she knew it would be there for quite some time, so she would always be there to protect him, and comfort him. They were, after all, best friends, and she knew that he would always be there for her, as well.

Eragon smiled again, snuggled closer to Saphira, and fell asleep for several hours more.

"Oi, YOU, wake up!" Kierra shook Eragon, roughly. "Brom has work for you to do."

Eragon grumbled, feeling groggy from his subconsciousness' late night excursion. When he sat up, his head spun, and he felt more than a little dizzy.

Kierra rolled her eyes, "Oh, boo-hoo, you had to sleep on the ground for one night. Whimp." she snapped, going over to Brom, who smirked lightly, though Eragon could faintly distinguish the word, "Behave," from Brom as she went to stand by him.

_I'll be lucky to survive this trip, won't I, Saphira? _

The majestic dragon made a chuckling sound. _You'll live, little one._

Eragon stood up and stretched, then went about putting his bedroll away, the memory of his recollection the night before searing the edges of his once full heart, the heat from the guilt eating his insides like a pile of ants to a crumb of bread. He had never meant for anything to happen to Garrow, and now, because of _**him, **_Garrow was dead, and he would never have his uncle back, and Roran would never have his father back.

Something of his thoughts must have shown on his face, because Brom decided the best course of action to take would be taking some time to teach Eragon the very basics of the ancient language. He would never be able to teach Eragon all of it in one sitting, especially with how thick headed the young _boy _was.

"Now that you finally have that," Brom smirked. "put away, its time to get to work." he sighed, looking around, thinking of the best starting point, then finally pinpointing one. "As a Rider, and a dragon, you both possess a powerful magical connection, one which can be called upon only through and by means, of the ancient language.

"This magic can be wonderful, or excruciatingly devastating, and therefore must be used in the most strenuous circumstances; it should never, _**never, **_be used for personal benefit, until you are aware of what you are doing and can harness that power. Do I make myself clear?" Brom looked at Eragon through stern eyes.

Eragon nodded. "Yes, but how am I supposed to do magic when I don't know the ancient language?" he asked, confused. Not only was his mind groggy with sleep, but his entire body ached with pain for his uncle's death, and it was all he could do to keep from shaking.

"How do you think, imbecile?" snapped Kierra, in a particularly vicious mood today. "We teach you the language, you and Saphira practice it, and there. Simple as that."

Brom shook his head; obviously Kierra could not see the pain buried deep within Eragon, could not see passed his somewhat childish facade, and that cut into Brom's own heart. Losing a loved one is never easy.

"Calm down, Kierra," Brom sighed. "Questions are good. How is he ever going to learn without curiosity?"

Kierra rolled her eyes. "How is he ever going to learn with some old geezer defending him every time he gets insulted?" she snapped. "That was part of the problem with Emilee-" she cut herself off at the look Brom gave her.

"Anyway," Eragon intervened, cringing at the intensity of the glares between the two. "So, if Saphira and I must learn this language, lets get learning. What is the word for... dream?"

Kierra sighed heavily, pulling her eyes away from Brom. "Draumr," she murmured, glancing at Eragon, who nodded, muttering the word under his breath to memorize it.

An agonizing hour later, and many angry outbursts from Kierra, Brom was satisfied with Eragon's linguistic prowess, and so he decided to stop their small party of three and test Eragon's physical dexterity. If he was to be a Rider, he was not going to be weak, easily discouraged, or a quiter. Never would he give up, and Brom would make sure of that.

After several hours of traveling, Brom abruptly stopped them on a hilly meadow on a high mountain, where the snow had not quite melted.

He gave the two a mischievous grin, then departed from them for some time.

"So..." Eragon tried to make some small talk, thinking of what subjects could possibly entertain a _girl. _And not just _any girl, _but _that _girl. He tried to remember any conversations he might have had with a member of the opposite gender, besides Emilee, of course, because she was easy enough to talk to, but he couldn't think of any. He mentally sighed hopelessly and settled for the first thing that entered his mind. "What's your favorite color?"

Kierra looked at him in disbelief, and snorted. _**He has to be a little more creative than that. **_"Is that the best you can do?" she asked, smirking lightly, and she added, as a snide comment, "Rider?"

Eragon's cheeks colored a bit, and then flushed as the realization of her words hit him smack in the face. He ignored that for the sake of staying polite, and gave a half shrug. "It's all I have," he admitted, feeling rather sheepish. He may be improving in the ancient language, but he may have to work on his people skills a bit harder.

Kierra rolled her eyes. _**He IS dense. **_"Your going to have to do better than that, I'm afraid. As it stands, a cow would not answer that question, so why do you expect me to?" she snapped, only vaguely aware of the feelings of guilt wrap around her. She brushed them off. If he wasn't such an..._imbecile_ she would not have to be so harsh.

Eragon flushed and frowned. _I am not really convinced that I like her, _he commented dryly to Saphira, while glaring at Kierra, his ego and pride throbbing painfully at her words.

_Why? Because she is not as easily charmed as a common field cow? _Saphira retorted, amused at the whole situation, and how personally Eragon was taking everything.

Eragon sighed heavily, ego and pride, and hope, all flailing miserably in a pool called dispair. _Ah, who am I kidding? I'm just a fool to hope that I can charm _**anyone, **_let alone her. Maybe I should just give up._

_Never quit hoping, young one. Life is nothing without hope. _Saphira tried to rectify her slip-up; apparently there is a huge gap between dragon humor and human humor, and perhaps she had toed the line a little too close for Eragon's comfort. At any rate, she felt bad for her words, and tried to pacify Eragon, feeling a surge of affection for her Rider... for her friend. _Nothing is impossible._

Eragon smiled weakly, but said nothing as Brom came back to them, and grinning broadly.

"Ready?" he asked, eyes sparkling.

Eragon nodded. "As I will ever be,"

And there is that chapter; hope ya'll enjoyed!


	7. Pendant, Part I

_Pendant, Part I  
_

Note, thank you, thank you! mysterywritter5775 for bringing this up! This gave me a bunch of ideas! And, so, with that being said, the plot thickens. Dun, dun, dun!

Emilee subconsciously played with the pendant around her neck, twirling it between her fingers, but never taking it off, as she stared ahead at the long road that her and Murtagh had ahead of them. Her eyes itched with tiredness, but she refused to sleep, pushing herself beyond her physical dexterity. She was determined to find her family... but she was just so tired...

She glanced down at the pendant, and smiled softly. Odd though it may seem, this necklace brought her the most comfort during her absence from home and family. It was her one connection to Kierra, and, in extension, Eragon and her father, whom she dearly, dearly missed.

"Emilee?" asked Murtagh from behind her, snapping her from her reverie, and making her jump and looking behind her to see him looking at her in concern.

"Are you alright?" he asked, tentatively, as if she might blow up and attack him; or worse, have some sort of emotional break down. He didn't think his nerves could take it if she were to cry right now. He was so exhausted, and his body ached and longed for sleep, and he didn't think that he would be much help if she were to go into waterworks mode. The only emotion he could spare right now was concern, and that was legitimate. They were both exhausted, and she was apparently not used to being away from her family, and was probably suffering from some sort of separation anxiety. Again, he didn't think he could take it right now. "You haven't said one word or moved one inch in the last two hours."

Emilee smiled sheepishly. "Yes, sorry. Just... thinking." she finished with a sigh. "About home."

Murtagh frowned, and grumbled something so low that she could not hear, but shook his head. "It must be hard," he mumbled, looking around at the scenery.

Emilee nodded. "It is," she said softly, eyes landing on a bird landing in a tree ahead of them, her focus a hundred miles off. "But," she smiled, looking at him again. "At least I'm not alone. Than-"

Murtagh rolled his eyes. "You don't have to say thank you every ten seconds," he grumbled, annoyed. _The first thousand times was good enough. _"Besides, what was I supposed to do, leave you on your own?" he chuckled darkly. "Who knows what would have happened to you." It was not a question, it was a statement, and she shuddered at the thought.

"Nevertheless," she said, shaking her head. "I appreciate it."

Murtagh nodded absently, turning into a small village just off the main road, and pulling the horse to a stop in a deserted village inn. "Thought you might be sick of sleeping on the ground." he commented at her confused look, and slinging himself off of his horse. He then turned and helped her off, cringing at the thought of her falling off if she tried to do it herself. During the past week, she had hurt herself more than any one normal person he knew.

She smiled. "Quite," she replied, biting her tongue when the words "thank you" tried to force themselves out of her.

"Ladies first," he said, opening the door for her.

She could feel her cheeks heat up, and walked swiftly through the doors, hoping that he had not seen her tomato red face.

They both paused to look around. Inside the inn was very simple; the furnishings were very old and very musty.

They walked into a room that resembled a living area, with two benchs surrounding a fireplace, a chandelier hanging above the quaint area, wax melted around the sides of the rusty metal.

The walls were a faded yellow and cobwebs hung from each of the corners and also from the mantle around the fireplace.

During her search, Emilee's eyes caught on a lone figure in the window, a pipe sticking out of his mouth. Their eyes caught, and Emilee was so mesmerized by the color and intensity of his crystal like orbs and the depth they held that she did not realize that Murtagh had a hold of her arm and was pulling her lightly towards the stairs. "Em?" he asked, uncertainly. "Are you sure your alright?"

Was she mistaking the gentleness of his voice, or the soft velvet of his touch? Or was she simply just trying to cover the thought of him thinking that she was crazy with those thoughts? Heck, maybe she was crazy...

She shook her head, cheeks coloring yet again. "I'm sure," she replied, looking at him.

Her stomach gave an uncomfortable squirm and almost fell out onto the dusty floor when she looked at him and noticed how his eyes seemed to sparkle, and how deep they were. She was almost as entranced by his eyes as the lone stranger's in the living room.

He frowned and put his hand to her forehead. "You are a little warm," he commented, pulling his hand away and looking at her thoughtfully. "Perhaps we should take a day off," he said slowly, as if he didn't like the suggestion anymore than she did.

Emilee shook her head. "No; I don't think that..." she trailed off when he suddenly smiled, and this time, unlike any other time in the passed week, this smile reached his eyes, lighting them up. She was already light-headed, and wondered how much more of this torture she could take before unconsciousness found her.

"Emilee," he said seriously. "I told you that I would accompany you until we found your family, and we _**will **_find them, I promise you. _**BUT, **_you and I both need rest, not to mention Tornac. We'll kill ourselves if we keep up at this pace."

She nodded grudgingly. They _had _pushed themselves beyond exhaustion for the passed week, going at an unbelievably break-neck pace. And, examining him a little closer, she could see the dark circles more prominently than before, not to mention his horribly blood-shot eyes.

She couldn't afford to be picky. She wouldn't kill off the only person that was helping her by driving him too hard. And, truth be told, she had never been more tired, physically and mentally, in her entire life. "Okay, resting is good," she said, nodding, then, "Maybe... I could get a horse?".Not that she had anything against Tornac, it was just awkward having to share.

He chuckled, and smirked. "Later. I'm dead on my feet," he replied, opening the door to her room for her. "I'll be next door."

"Thanks," she murmured, going into the room and crashing on the bed; eyes closed before she even hit the pillow.

She was in a dark forest which she knew not, in the middle of a heavy fog, so thick she could not see through it, no matter how hard she tried.

Her heart raced as if she had run a mile, though she could not remember running, though, judging by the salty sweat that poured down her brow, she must have been running for quite awhile.

Her breath came in deep gasps as her chest heaved heavily, as if in protest for running so hard, and trying to regain the lost oxygen.

Starting to get panicked, she turned, looking for some way to escape from the heavy fog, more than slightly unnerved by this whole ordeal.

She started to walk around to get her bearings, when she saw a dark figure coming towards her in the fog, freezing her to the spot where she stood, her dark eyes narrowing in suspicion.

From what she could tell, it was a man; a tall man, with dark hair and a dark aura about him. He exuded more evil than the underworld itself.

As he got closer, she realized that he was stumbling, and holding his arm to his stomach, blood spilling mercilessly from an angry gash, leaving a bloody trail of footprints as he walked.

He fell to the ground in front of her, and he looked up into her eyes, again freezing her where she stood.

With a sharp intake of breath, an unspoken realization hit her, and hit her hard, knocking all the breath out of her at once.

Morzan...

Hope you all enjoyed that little twist in the chapter. My thoughts and ideas are on the same level as Speed's Mach 5 in Speed Racer (which is an excellent movie, and I suggest that whoever reads this silly little note goes and sees it.), so the updates _should _be coming up quicker... unless I get stuck with writer's block again. sighs Anyway, hope ya'll enjoyed!


	8. Predicament

**Grins Here's **_**the **_**chapter mystery. And to everybody else who might be reading this story, hope you guys enjoy it, too! **

**Predicament**

**Eragon and Brom wandered off to the nearby meadow where Brom was, hopefully, going to teach Eragon some things. And they had better be important; her time was not to be wasted on trivial things.**

**Kierra climbed atop a nearby plateau and watched the horizon ahead of her, letting a very rare smile claim her face, and letting the calm air blow through her hair, and onto her face, and breathing the sweet scent of the nearby stream into her lungs, exhaling serenely. She was always calmer when the wind blew, strong and comforting, wild, yet still beautiful.**

**This is when she was the most calm; is when it was just her and the earth, nothing between them. It was as if they were inseparable, the best of friends, since the beginning. And, since everything she had done when she was younger involved the earth in its majestic glory is some way or another, they might as well be best friends.**

**She smiled fondly, eyes closed, of how she used to plant gardens when she was younger, and the joy she felt at having them grow for her. The beautiful flowers and colors always brought her such happiness, and such warmth, that it was hard for her to imagine having gone so long without them as she had. **

**Kierra took another deep breath, eyes still closed, and was about to let it out when it was forcefully knocked out of her lungs, and the sudden weakness in her limbs caused her to fall to her knees, a sudden anguish seeping through her soul, despair ripping through her heart like a dicing knife. **

**"E...E...Emilee..." she gasped, taking shallow breaths, trying to regain claim over her nerves, and trying to control her breathing.**

**Ten minutes passed until she was finally able to put herself together enough to push herself up, still gasping for breath. Once she had, and she had controlled her shakingm, she ran to the meadow where Brom and Eragon were bashing each other silly with their swords (**_**boys!)**_**, and came to an abrupt stop. "Brom, we need to go... now!" she gasped. "Emilee needs our help."**

**Brom froze in place, and Eragon had to pull back abruptly before he could bash Brom in the head with his sword. **

**Brom turned to Kierra slowly. "Is she... alive?" he asked slowly, his usually calm eyes clouded with pain.**

**Kierra nodded."Yes," she said softly. "We just need to get to her."**

**Brom nodded, satisfied. "We'll see to that... but," he smiled slightly as Kierra went and stood next to Eragon. "You two need to learn tolerance and teamwork."**

**And then he stepped away. As he did that, and before Kierra and Eragon could stop it, a rope net came up around the two, smashing one against the other, and suspending three feet from the ground, the rope hanging from an ancient oak tree.**

**Brom nodded at his handy work, then turned to the two glaring teens. "You will never get anywhere without teamwork. Until you learn to trust each other, and IN each other, than you are not going anywhere." he paused for a second. "Life is a futile game being played by thoughtless pawns if those pawns do not learn to trust each other. So," he smiled slightly. "I'll know you've learned trust when you both get out." With that, he turned and walked away, leaving the two hanging.**

**Kierra glared at Brom's retreating back; he was so going to get it when she got out of this stupid net. **_**If **_**she got out of this stupid net. She glanced at Eragon, and sighed. **_**This may take awhile... **_**she idly thought, mentally scoffing at the word **_**trust. **_**Who needed it? The only person she needed to trust in was herself. Besides... her eyes clouded over. Her trust had been lost long ago.**

_**Flashback**_

_**"Mama, mama!" squealed a little four year Kierra, running and throwing herself into her mother's weary arms. **_

_**Her mother managed a small smile, and hugged her daughter back. "Hey, sweetie," she replied, and, with some difficulty due to shaking arms, protesting limbs and burning muscles, she picked her daughter up and carried her to her room. "You're supposed to be in bed, love."**_

_**Kierra beamed brightly, and looked into her mother's eyes. "I couldn't wait to see you!" she squeaked, hugging her mother tighter, and not noticing her mother cringe in pain, nor how contorted her face was with pain. She buried her head into her mother's shoulder, and breathed in her sweet scent. Her mother always smelled good.**_

_**Her mother put her in bed, and tucked her into the silky, sky blue airy material that made up her sheets. She smiled at her daughter's sparkling eyes, and kissed her forehead. "I love you, sweetheart. Never forget that." she said, kissing her one more time, giving her one last hug, and turned to leave.**_

_**"I love you, too, mama," replied Kierra, smiling.**_

_**Her mother left the room, leaving the door open a crack.**_

_**The young girl waited in her bed for ten anxious minutes and tried to sleep, but could not. She wanted to be with her mother so bad. It had been days since she had been in her mother's warm presence, and she had missed her so much. So, she did what every young child her age would do; sneaked out of bed, and quietly tip-toed her way downstairs for a bed time story. Even the sound of mama's voice was soothing to her.**_

_**But, she got a little more of a looksie than she had anticipated, and it scared her to death. Instead of finding her mother healthy, she found her sitting at the kitchen table, bruises all over her body, and the skin was torn in certain places. If the young girl had not been so young, she also would have seen several swollen and cracked ribs, but she was too young to know what all those bruises around her mother's stomach were. **_

_**Their maid, Allea, was helping her remove her clothes, and tending to her mother's wounds.**_

_**The little Kierra took one last glance at her mother, before running to her room and throwing herself on her bed, pulling the covers over her shaking frame, and sobbing into her pillow. **_

_**She instantly jumped when she heard a soft, "Hello, Kierra," **_

_**Kierra pulled the covers off of her head, and glared at the man standing in her doorway with as much loathing as a four year old can give. "I hate you," she mumbled, sitting stiff.**_

_**"We'll see about that," the man drawled, stepping closer. **_

_**...End of Flashback...**_

**"Well, this is a lovely predicament," Kierra grumbled under her breath, looking anywhere but directly at Eragon. She found that she could deal with this whole situation better by NOT looking at him; it was easier than dealing with him. **

**Eragon smiled. "I don't think this is too bad," he commented evenly. "It would be better if I was in here alone, however."**

**Kierra grumbled yet again. "Why, why, why, of all things on this green earth that Brom could do, **_why _**would he pick this? We need to go, we need to..."**

**She trailed off, listening very carefully, shushing Eragon when he tried to speak. "Wait, do you hear that?" she asked quietly, eyes narrowing in displeasure.**

**For, in the distance, they could hear wings flapping, and the awfully loud screech of some unearthly creature as it made its rounds around their camp.**

**"Great," Kierra hissed. "The Ra'zac."**

_**So, I hope you enjoyed that chapter. I love leaving cliffhangers. They're so much fun! **_


	9. Pendant, Part II

The Pendant, Part II

Emilee was rooted to the spot where she was standing as she stared down at the man who had stumbled before her. Her whole insides shook with fear and revulsion, especially as she thought of the horrible acts that this man had committed. But, she was still very confused... He was supposed to be dead... Her father had killed him many years ago, so this made absolutely no sense. _Maybe... Maybe I'm mad, _she thought to herself, thoughts instantly darkening. _That's it. I've gone completely and utterly mad. I've snapped. _

The man slowly raised his head to look at her, and her stomach almost fell out again. Something about those eyes, seemed so familiar. What was it about those eyes, and why were they so enchanting? Why did she suddenly want to drown in those orbs, even though she knew they belonged to a man with a soul as black as death itself? Why was he so inviting? He looked at her beseechingly. "Please," he croaked hoarsely. "Help me."

Emilee's heart started pounding. What was she supposed to do, leave him there to die? _That's exactly what you should be doing, _half of her reasoned, while the other half disagreed. _**Don't leave him to die. That wouldn't be right, now would it? **_She shook her head, which was starting to spin out of control, as were her thoughts.

If she were to leave him there, he would die, which is what was intended for him since he had betrayed the Riders, and had founded and become one of the Forsworn... _**But, **_if she were to help him... Her father had said that if anyone should need help, she should not hesitate to do so. _However, _she wasn't entirely sure that nursing one of the most evil beings known to man back to health was one of those things he had mentioned to her.

Finally able to free herself somewhat from her trance-like state, she shook her head. "S-sorry, but I-I can't," she mumbled, taking a step back from his outreaching hand that meant to clasp at her ankle, and then kept taking steps back as quickly as she could.

"Please," he croaked again, his voice full of sorrow. _Probably at the thought of his own death, _the better half of Emilee thought. "Don't leave me here to die."

"So-sorr-sorry," she stuttered, backing away even all the more quickly. "I-"

..."_Emilee!"_

The voice sounded so far away, echoing and bouncing off the walls in the room, filling the corners with its unearthly eeriness.

"Emilee," the voice sounded slightly impatient this time, and the person even went so far as to lightly swat at her cheeks.

_If this is Murtagh, I'm gonna kill him _went through Emilee's mind, but she just turned over and mumbled, "Five more minutes,"

And yet, as she closed her eyes to go back to sleep, she knew she was being transported to that world where... her heart began to race, and her breathing turned into gasps. She could feel herself flail her arms about, and could feel them getting caught in the sheets, could feel the cold sweat pouring down her face and her back.

Slightly more than panicked, she did the one thing that made sense to her. She opened her eyes and sat straight up in bed, pulse racing, heart pounding, and gasping in sweet, delicious air. "Where I am?" she looked around so quickly that it made her head hurt. She gasped as she looked at the person that she had assumed to be Murtagh... she was wrong. "Wait, who are you? You're not Murtagh,"

The lone stranger chuckled. "All things in due time," then he frowned, eyes becoming suddenly dark; not that she could see them, of course, they were hidden beneath a hood. "And you are right; I am not Murtagh. Although," he added, trying to be more thoughtful, but a darker note coloring his tone. "why you should care for him so, I do not know."

Instantly Emilee's cheeks inflamed. What did he mean, _care for? _They were just friends... if you could call them that. After all, she was all happy and bubbly and talkative, and most of the time she was sure that the only thing that was stopping him from hurting her is the fact that she is a female, and apparently he doesn't hit girls. And then there was him; moody, pessimistic, non-talkative, and most of the time she wanted to drown him in a lake. She was convinced that the only reason he was being nice to her now was because he was too exhausted to spare any animosity towards her at the moment.

Just thinking about it made her blood boil. "Him and I are just friends, nothing more!" she spat, then stopped abruptly. "Wait, why am I telling _**you **_this? I don't know you,"

She got up and started pacing back and forth, causing this man to sigh impatiently. "You should really stay in bed, you know," he said, standing up from his chair that was pulled close to the edge of the bed where she had been sleeping. "Your still exhausted, not to mention I think you might have a touch of heat stroke, and-"

"I do not have heat stroke!" Emilee said sharply. "Now why don't you do me a favor and leave me-"

"Where did you get that pendant?" the man asked swiftly, glancing at the pendant that she was now swirling absentmindedly between her fingers. He frowned slightly.

"Why should I tell you?" snapped Emilee, frowning. "I don't even know your-"

The man sighed, frowning farther. "That pendant is a very dangerous thing to be walking around with, especially in present company," he said swiftly, standing up. "Now, can I have it?"

"No," Emilee snapped again, stepping away from him. "I-"

There was a soft knock on her door. "Emilee, are you awake yet?" came the soft, yet very agitated voice of Murtagh. "Are you decent?"

Emilee glared at the man standing before her. "Y- no," she changed her mind as she glanced into this stranger's gentle eyes, which she could now see were a very vivid blue. "I'm bathing; give me a half an hour,"

She could hear his agitated sigh from where she was standing. "Fine," he snapped. "Half an hour, but then we have to go. We have a long way to travel if we want to find your family, and we need to get going quickly," he paused. "But I guess quickly isn't in your vocabulary, is it?"

Emilee rolled her eyes. "Shut up and leave me alone!" she yelled, kicking a bedpost. "You always have to be so degrading, and it's getting on my nerves!" she stomped over to the door, and yelled through it. "So just leave me alone!"

"I hope you can inhale your food!" he yelled back, and stomped back to his room, slamming his door.

She sighed and stomped over to her bed and threw herself in it. Glaring up at the man who was standing there rather shocked, whether it be the way she had treated Murtagh, or that her temper could get very out of control, and she snapped at him. "So, you owe me an explanation, Mr. Here you are, and you want to take my pendant from me, and you say that its dangerous. Why?"

The man sighed and sat on an available chair, lowering his hood momentarily. "That pendant, also known as the Gedwey Pendant, is passed down from generation to generation among the elves," he explained. "It is a very powerful and potent pendant, made to test the strength of righteous owners. The magic that it possesses draws from fears straight from the soul and uses these against the wearer, to test their loyalty to the side of light, and also to test the strength of their soul. It is usually only worn by those who have harnessed and mastered the power that is known as magic, and even still is usually only worn by those who are training and preparing for war." he paused thoughtfully. "It was even worn by the first Eragon, though he found it a tad...irritating."

Emilee examined this man more careful_l_y. The thing that stuck out to her most is the fact that he has pointy ears. "So you're an elf," she breathed, surprised to be in such a close proximity to one. She had always wanted to meet one, but... Now she gets her wish! "So, what happens... what happens if this pendant falls into... the wrong hands?"

He sighed gravely. "You saw something today when the pendant was drawing from your memories and fears, did you not?" When she nodded, he continued. "The pendant is neutral, neither good, nor evil; however, when worn by those with good intent, the pendant will just strengthen and preserve the wearer, providing the wearer with the strength and courage that they should need, should they ever need to go into war, or battle. But, when the pendant is worn by those with evil tendencies, it has the reverse affect; instead of strengthening the soul, it rips it straight from the wearer as payment for its evil deed, which is usually to resurrect an evil power which has long since been laid to rest, or," and with this he looked straight into her eyes. "resurrect an evil being who was put to a very painful and, depending on whose point of view your looking from, unjust end. Add to that, whatever it is that is resurrected should be returned to full health and given ten thousand times the power that they held before. This is why the pendant is so dangerous."

Emilee's heart started racing, and she started to get quite panicked. "But... but, see, I'm not- there's no way that- not going to happen- I mean-" she started hyperventilating.

He held up a hand to stop her incoherent mumbling. "Calm down, Emilee. I have no fear of you in possession of the pendant." he smiled gently. "I actually cannot see anybody else in possession of it at this time, however," he grew stern. "You shall need some training with it, so that you do not become consumed by its power. However, in order to receive said training, you shall have to make a choice. You shall either have to travel with myself from here on out, or you can choose to continue your travels with Murtagh, but you cannot have both. One or the other."

Emilee frowned. "And abandon Murtagh?" she asked skeptically. "After everything he's done for me, and you want me to just leave him? Look, Mr, I don't know who you are-"

"You don't know Murtagh very well, either," he interrupted quietly.

She shook her head and continued. "He is the only one that has been helping me find my family," she sighed. "And he's been a good companion, no matter HOW ANNOYING HE IS!" she yelled through the wall. Then she turned back to look at the stranger. "So, I think I can master this myself, thanks, but I am not abandoning the only friend I have."

The man nodded and stood up. "Well, I hope you find your _family," _he had a faraway look to his eyes when he said the word. "And ask Murtagh about his family. See what happens."

Emilee frowned as the man left, twirling her pendant absentmindedly between her fingers. She sighed heavily and sat on her bed. This was going to be a long, long journey, and she wasn't quite sure she was prepared for it.

End of that chapter. Hope it was enjoyable, and made sense. That pendant packs a punch, so we'll have to see how Emilee's fragile self handles mastering it on her own. Who knows, maybe she'll have some help? Keep tuning in, and find out!


	10. Lessons Learned

Lessons Learned, And They Don't Come Cheap

_Last time: "Oh, great," Kierra hissed. "The Ra'zac." _

"Ra'zac?" Eragon asked, his heart starting to race, although he wasn't quite sure why. Ah, well, he'd figure that out later. Right now, he... he closed his eyes in agitation at the thought that correction, _they _needed to figure out how to get out of this hanging noose. Well, figuratively speaking, that's what it felt like to him. He truly would love to kill Brom for this. He hated not being in control of his _own _descions, and hated having to depend on Kierra to help _him _out when all _she _had been doing the passed week was degrade him and lower him, demoralize him, and say truly insulting things to him.

_It builds character, _Saphira had said with amusment in her tone, which he scoffed at. If he had wanted to build character, he would have begun building it himself, at his own pace, and in a slightly more positive, and uplifting manner, instead of being laughed to scorn by some stupid elf-girl who seemed to idolize Brom and put down everybody else...

_Ugh, I need to quit thinking of __**her **__and start thinking __**clearly, **_went through his head as he looked around and pondered on how to get out of this hanging cage of death. He couldn't help a few stray thoughts, _Maybe if I'm really lucky, and by some miracle, it'll catch fire and then I won't have to worry about getting out anymore. _

"Any thoughts?" Kierra's taunting voice broke him from his peaceful reverie, one in which she was blissfully pushed off of the Beor Mountains. However, harsh reality hit him when he heard her grating voice, and could feel his blood start to boil.

"At the moment?" he said with forced calm. "None."

Kierra smirked. "That figures, oh mighty Dragon Rider," she snorted. "And the world is in your hands. I can think of nothing worse."

"Would you stop that?" Eragon asked quietly, slightly unnerved by all of her Dragon Rider insults. Not just because he was angry with her for shooting them at him every time she took a breath, but he recognized a bit of truth in them. He himself didn't feel ready for this destiny choosen for him, and was overwhelmed by it all, and her insults were just playing on his insecurities, making him feel even worse.

What if he wasn't ready? What if he messed up, and something really bad happened because of him? What if he wasn't what everybody thought he was? What if he wasn't the hero that everybody imagined he would be? He is a Dragon Rider, of that he's sure, but what if, just maybe, he wasn't as strong and able as everybody believed him to be? What if they were placing too much faith in him?

Kierra raised her eyebrow at his tone of dejection, and looked away. "What, can't take some insults? It's not like you haven't heard them before,"

Eragon glanced at her, and then away. "It just isn't helping anything," he quietly replied, fighting to keep his voice from shaking. "You know, instead of insulting me, you can help me think of a way out of this. And then, when we get out of here, I'll gladly leave killing Brom up to you."

Kierra snorted. "And I will certainly take you up on that offer," she replied, and then got a faraway look in her eyes. "I wonder if she's looking for us,"

Eragon looked at her, surprised more than anything, by the soft tone of her voice, and the way her facial features softened as she thought. The question and her mood change definitely caught him off guard. "Who, Emilee? I have no doubt of that; truth be told, she can hardly function on her own." he chuckled softly.

The corners of Kierra's lips pulled up in a half hearted smile that lasted only a second, and again Eragon was surprised by the emotion she was showing. She seemed... sad. "I think," she said softly, "I wasn't quite fair to her. I think I judged her before I thought about what I was doing, and now... anything that happens to her... I'm to blame."

Eragon shook his head, more than slightly unnerved by the turn the conversation had taken. "You're not to blame for anything that happens to her; she's her own person, and she can, hopefully, look after herself. Besides," he added off handedly. "She probably found somebody who was nice enough to travel with her." he chuckled darkly. "Knowing her, it's probably some gullable young man who thinks he has half a chance with her. You would be surprised at how often that happens."

Kierra chuckled. "I can imagine," she said, then, "Don't let Brom hear you say that."

Eragon smiled, still slightly unnerved by the turn the conversation had taken. Not that he minded. He liked the pleasant Kierra. He liked the pleasant Kierra a little too much...

"At any rate," Kierra suddenly became serious as she heard the screeching sound in the distance again. "We need to figure out how to get out of this stupid net."

"I have an idea," Eragon stated suddenly, making Kierra raise an eyebrow. She was slowly getting back to herself (thankfully, because she was really starting to feel a little unnerved by how she felt around Eragon.), so she raised an eyebrow at him.

"Oh?" she said simply, glancing at him from the corner of her eye. "And what might that be?"

Eragon cringed as her voice returned to the mocking tone to which he was accustomed. Not to mention he was cringing at the thought of voicing his idea, but better late than never. "Since your hands are free," he yanked uselessly on his hands which had gotten caught in the net when it hoisted the two off the ground. "you would reach around my waist to-"

"Excuse me?" Kierra snapped, outraged. How dare he suggest a lady do such a thing?! How repulsive. Why did she start treating him like a human again?

Eragon rolled his eyes. "Let me finish," he said in a voice of forced calm. "You would reach around my waist to grab my sword and-"

And then he let out a pain-filled yelp as the burning tip of an arrow pierced through his right shoulder blade, all the way through to the front and instantly cauterizing it, making Kierra lean as far away back as she could so as not to get herself hurt, eyes as wide as saucers. What had happened? What was going on?

She got the answer to that question when she saw a group of not only Urgals but Kull as well running down the hill towards the two, an evil red glint shining in their malignant eyes as their lust for blood consumed them.

Kierra frowned and, with a swiftness the likes of which Eragon had never seen, Kierra had unsheathed Zar'roc and had a them cut free. "Brisingr," she said in a deadly calm voice, setting a magnificent light amethyst purple colored fire to the ropes around herself and Eragon, and making the Urgals and Kull jump back in surprise.

_Saphira! _Eragon called, cringing in pain as the arrow sent another sharp pain through his body, making him tremble, and sending a light cold sweat down his body. _We need you!_

_Coming, little one. _came Saphira's snarled reply.

Kierra pulled out her own sword and turned and sliced into a Kull that had been about to chop bother hers and Eragon's heads off. She sliced into its stomach and then dug her sword as far into his stomach as she could get it.

Eragon took a deep breath after ducking a sharp blow to the head from a nearby Urgal, squared his shoulders, and broke the back of the arrow off, letting out another pain-filled yelp as he dodged yet again another blow. As soon as his vision wasn't blurry anymore, he proceeded in ripping the arrow from his shoulder, his cry becoming more pronounced.

Quickly ducking and dodging another Urgal, Eragon picked Zar'roc up off the ground and, still crouching, turned with all the might his shoulder could muster and separated the Urgal from his legs.

"Eragon!" Kierra yelled in a panic, after having been swept off her feet and thrown across the Urgal captain's shoulders, who was sprinting away with her.

Eragon jerked towards her voice, and noticed that with a feeling of dread. Looking around frantically, and chopping into more Urgals and Kull, he noticed a way to get Kierra back. After chopping down some more Urgals, he ran over to a dirt wall and started hoisting himself up to the ledge that it held by a vine hanging down.

He kicked some Urgal and Kull hand's off of him, but when one of them decided to cut the vine he was so anxiously trying to climb up, he found himself standing on a very unhappy Kull's shoulders.

Eragon and the Kull just stood there for a moment after hearing a tortured screech that sounded like it came from Saphira. Taking the Kull's hesitation to his advantage, Eragon jumped from the Kull, onto another vine and used the momentum from his swing to swing himself onto the ledge, and started running after the Kull that had Kierra, hope very slim of catching up.

_Saphira, _his dragon was his first concern. _Are you alright?_

_I'm fine, Eragon. _came Saphira's slightly annoyed voice. _Somebody had to get you moving. Do not worry about me, and worry about Kierra. She's more important than I._

_Not to me, _Eragon assured her gently.

End of that chapter, for now. Heh, heh, betcha love me for the cliffy, mystery. Hope you enjoy!


	11. Anything

~*~Anything~*~

"Okay, that's it!" snapped Murtagh, glaring at Emilee, taking three deep breaths to steady himself and counting to three four different times in his head. She was going to be the death of him, and he just knew it. "I am so sick of you fidgeting with that stupid pendant or your stupid clothes! Why are you so jittery anyway?"

He shook his head in agitation to get his hair out of his eyes. He was so sick of her fidgeting with everything she got her hands on. She was now no longer allowed to cook, because she had been so shaky that she had spilled boiling hot soup all over him this morning... and those blisters were painful.

"What's your problem?" Emilee shot back, bloodshot eyes popping open from a quick nap. She glared at Murtagh with such venom and hatred she scared herself.

He brushed that aside, sighing heavily again. "What's _**your **_problem?" he sidestepped her question. "You've been... for lack of a better, or more appropriate word... _**evil **_all week. I was-" he cut himself off and cringed at the expression that crossed her face.

If it were possible, she went even paler than she had been all week; the dark circles under her blood red eyes were more pronounced than ever before, and her breathing had become more rapid as her already swollen eyes filled with tears.

Murtagh could take all that, had actually come to expect waking up in the middle of the night to heart wrenching screams that echoed everywhere, and had come to expect getting next to no sleep as he tried to figure out what was wrong with her. All that he could take, but he couldn't take the look of dread that crossed her eyes. The look of pain that settled on her features was almost too much to take, like her very soul had caught fire, and she was burning from the inside out.

"I didn't... I..." she stuttered, flushing slightly. "I really... Murtagh, I'm so sorry. I-"

"Slow down," he mumbled, holding up a hand, feeling a twinge of fear jolt through him as he realized she had taken his words, a first for her, seriously. "I didn't mean it like that."

"Then... how did you mean it?" she asked in a small voice, looking down at the ground, tears trickling out her eyes and down her sunburned cheeks. "Because I really am- wait, where are we?"

Murtagh pulled Tornac to the side of the road and jumped off. "To get you some new clothes, so you can quit fidgeting with your old ones." he sighed inwardly, and wondered if he was ever going to get so close to a sincere apology again. "Let's go," he helped her off her new horse, and for the second their eyes connected, he could see just how grateful she was to be with him, how sorry she had been to mistreat him, and how much she appreciated him being there.

For that one second, she was herself again, and he was suddenly overwhelmed by the depth to her.

"Thanks," she said, looking down.

"Don't mention it," he replied, then, "We'll need to get some supplies as well."

Emilee nodded absently, mind obviously elsewhere. "You can do that, and I'll get-"

"Are you joking?" Murtagh asked as if she had surprised him. "I'm not leaving you alone for more than two seconds."

She giggled that annoying giggle of hers, that somehow all females managed to possess at one point or another. "Admit it, the only reason you want to come is so I can model for you." she said, skipping ahead of him.

"You wish," he mumbled, and then stopped abruptly so as not to run into her suddenly still form. "Emilee?" he asked hesitantly, seeing her tense up. "What's-"

Before he could finish his question, she let out a pain filled shriek, and fell to the ground in convulsions, barely able to get any air in.

Heart starting to race, Murtagh went to go pick Emilee up, when a flying firey dart stopped him in his tracks.

The dart had buried itself in his left shoulder blade, giving an angry hiss as it boiled the skin around the wound.

Stumbling forward, eyes watering in pain, and reactions starting to slow, Murtagh let out an angry curse word, and, for the moment while his head was still on straight, pulled out his bow and arrow and shot with prescion skill and accuracy.

"Murty..." a small voice mumbled as Murtagh's eyelids began to droop closed. He could feel the fire in his veins, could feel the poison drift slowly through his weakening bloodstream, could feel every sharp beat of his heart, as though there was a sword slicing into it every time it pumped. Every breath felt like a razor blade was slicing into his lungs, into his heart.

And yet... he didn't focus on any of that. He focused on the small voice ahead of him and stumbled to it. His feet felt like lead, and when he finally got to the semi-sleeping body of his companion, he fell flat on his face.

He heard the small voice again, though he could see nothing but dark, and it seemed like the voice was a million miles away.

"Thank you," she said, and he realized that he was flipped over, head in her lap, and tears that were not his own streamed down his cheeks.

Fighting with all the strength he had left, Murtagh forced his eyes open, and smiled up at her, weakly putting his hand to her cheek. "For you," he gasped out between gasps of pain. "anything."

And all went dark.

~*~*~

_Emilee's POV_

_~*~*_

_*He doesn't mean that, you know,* sneered the voice in her head, and she could vividly see his snide face, could feel his warm breath on her neck as he mumbled in her ear as she panicked over Murtagh. *He's just really drugged. That dart and all. Tsk, I can't believe you let him take that for you.* he sneered at her even more, a cruel, evil, yet very handsome smirk twisting around those sick, twisted lips of his. Don't you... love my son? _

Emilee's hands shook as she fussed over Murtagh, trying with her all to ignore the presence in her head, because he had become more... solid than before, and she was having a particularly hard time with him. Nevertheless, she could not deal with his taunting right now, not when Murtagh's life was hanging in the balance, and he needed her so much.

As it was, he was grimacing in pain every time he would take a breath, and his breath was getting even more uneven and fainter by the minute.

_You know, he wouldn't be in-_

"Shut up!" Emilee yelled, her voice echoing off of the, thankfully, empty street. "Leave me alone, you sick, twisted, evil excuse for a man!"

_Do that more often, people will start to think you're insane, he chuckled in her ear again, breath sending a cold shiver down her spine._

Emilee used what was left of her force of will and payed no more heed to the evil, stupid, manipulative scum in her head, and, with shaking hands, flipped Murtagh over, onto his stomach to examine the wound on his back.

She gasped at what she saw. The wound had spread and was now the size of two or three of her fists.

Without thinking about what she was doing, she tore his cloak and shirt off. Taking a deep breath, she put her mouth to the wound and gently, hoping with all _else _that she had in her that this would work, started to suck the poison out of his wound.

The instant that her lips touched his skin, her muscles tensed up and she was back in the living nightmare, a place she remembered quite well.

This time was different, though. It was more of a......memory, than anything else. A very dim one at that.

_There was a man; he was tall, and would have been extraordinarily handsome, but for the stumble in his walk, the wild look in his gray eyes, and the liquor on his breath. _

_There was a woman, whose face she couldn't quite see, but could tell that it was quite bruised, and that the woman was quite battered, and even broken in some spots. _

_She was pleading with the man, who was more likely than not, her husband, but what she was pleading, Emilee knew not, for this memory had no sound. _

_Whatever it may be, though, the man didn't like it and started yelling, his words slurred and his movements uneven from the whisky. He grabbed his wife tightly around the arms, so tight that they would turn into raging bruises over the next few days, and started shaking her. After he had gotten bored of shaking her, he smacked her across the face and let her slide, sobbing, onto the cold, hard floor, to writhe in pain in the dirt. _

_The man was about to continue the abuse of his wife when he stopped dead in his tracks, and a look of complete anger and hatred crossed his face. He turned and made his way into the other room, drunkenly swaggering into some vases of fresh flowers, and shelves with breakables on them, on his way there. _

_The man paused at the doorway, and Emilee watched in horror as he made his way to a toddler, who was holding his hand which had been cut deeply on a shard of glass from a broken whisky bottle. The toddler screamed even more at the sight of his father, and turned his back to him, trying to search for his mommy. _

_The man yelled something and unsteadily unsheathed his sword, shouted something in the face of the woman, spat on her and the little child, and the the sword fly, fileting the child's back open, and sending blood flying everywhere._

Emilee tried to take a deep breath, but then got a throat full of blood, and pulled her mouth away from Murtagh's back, choking and trying to get the stuff out of her lungs so she could breathe.

_What did I tell you? the voice drawled. You shouldn't have let him take this dart for you. He's been through so much for you and you're just letting him die. _

"No," Emilee cried, eyes filling with tears as she put her mouth back to the wound and started sucking at the poison with more ferocity than before. "Murty," she moaned in despair as she noticed that his breathing had stopped. "Don't you dare leave me."

_A fat lot of good telling him that's going to do; he's already dead. A vicious grin spread across the overly handsome face at the thought. _

She leaned close and could hear a small _**thud, thud, **_though it was quite faint. Trying to hold her terror in, she flipped him over so he was facing upwards.

"It's not going to work," said a voice in Emilee's ear, and she felt her blood chill as she got a glimpse of a solid Morzan, and her heart started pumping wildly in her chest.

"It will!" she cried, pushing the force of the control that he had over her mind back with every fiber of her soul, and then bent down and, blushing slightly, she put her lips to Murtagh's parted ones, and started blowing air into him, while plugging his nose.

_Alright, have it your way, said the voice, smirking. But if it doesn't, what are you going to do? Where are you going to-_

_LEAVE ME ALONE! _Emilee cried in her mind, with such anguish and sorrow, instantly shutting the voice off and tuning it out.

Returning to her work, she pumped his chest, and blew air into his lungs, but to no avail. This went on for about ten minutes when Emilee was so exhausted, out of breath, and terrified. She didn't want to think of what was going to happen to her if.... if Murtagh was...

Laying her head on his chest, tears spilling out of her eyes as she slowly began to sob. "Murty," she sobbed, trying to gain control of her emotions. "Thank you,"

She laid there for what seemed like forever when she pushed herself off of him, looking into his pale and lifeless face. Sweeping his dark hair out of his face, she sighed, and looked away, eyes filling with tears again.

Emilee just about screamed and jumped out of her skin when she felt him jerk awake, grabbing the hand that was resting on his chest. She helped him onto his side as he began coughing up a bunch of green goop that didn't look too appealing. "Murtagh?" she gasped, heart still racing.

He laid there coughing for a minute or two, and then another minute or two panting, trying to get his breath back. "Who else would I be?" he snapped out, breathless. He cringed; breathing had become manual labor which he was not prepared for.

"Let's get you somewhere you can lay down," Emilee said, standing up, turning her back to him and wiping her eyes. Then she turned to him and helped him up. "There's an inn nearby that we can rest in." she slung his arm over her shoulders. "Now, if you'll make me a list of what we need, _I _will go and get the supplies while _you _rest."

Murtagh shook his head weakly. "No, I'm fine," his voice was as weak as he felt.

Emilee wasn't fooled either. "You need to rest; you've been through a lot," she mumbled, looking away, and Murtagh had the faint idea that maybe she wasn't referring to what had happened today. When she looked back at him, her eyes were brimming with tears yet again. "Thank you,"

He shook his head. "You know, you're a lot more trouble than you're worth sometimes," he sighed.

~*~  
Hope that that was okay.... I suck at action scenes... Anyway, here's an update!! Hope ya'll enjoyed it!


	12. Pain

~*~Okay, sorry it's taken me so long to get to this story!! I have had a major case of writers block, but I think I'm back now.... We'll see! ^^ ~*~ And, just in case you haven't read Brisingr (which isn't very likely, since everybody has read Brisingr), there is one major spoiler in this chapter that, if you have not read the book, you may not want to read this.~*

~Pain~*

~Brom's POV~

~Flashback~

"Des, you don't have to go; you have a choice!" his voice echoed throughout the single roomed house they were in. "You do not have to sign your life away-"

Destiny stood up so fast, her chair toppled to the ground, and upon her beautiful face she wore a venomous glare, eyes boring into his very soul. "You do not understand my position at all. If there was something in your life that you could not live without, would you not fight heart, mind and soul for it, even if you knew it would turn out disastrous?" she snapped, looking away from him finally. "I never should have come to you with this. I-"

"He is going to use you, Des!" he cried, pounding his fist on the table. "He is going to use you to get to HER! He has already done a very good job, apparently, otherwise you would not be so harebrained to go through with this!"

Her clear blue eyes danced dangerously and shone with molten blue flames, the passion of her very soul boiling her blood until it had just about spilled over. Without thinking, she reached out her hand and struck him across the cheek, the sound echoing into the unusually warm night air. "You know nothing, bard. You truly have become what you portray to these villagers that you are, Brom. What happened to the brave Dragon Rider I used to know? What happened to-"

"The brave Dragon Rider you know is still here, he just is not reckless," replied Brom, ice cold bitterness dripping off of his words. "Which is what you are being right now, Des. You have a daughter you haven't seen in years! You do not need to go galvanting around with Mor-"

"He promised to keep my daughter!" Des shrieked in hysteria. "He would never lay a finger on her!"

"That's what he would have you think! Have you lost your mind completely? What would-"

Des struck Brom across the face again, and she took a step nearer to him. "Never mention that.... excuse for a man's name in front of me. I could care less what he thinks, just as well as I could care less what you think. I am going to go through with this, and nobody is going to stop me."

Brom heaved a huge sigh. "Not even your daughter?" he said quietly, his dark eyes sparkling with unshed tears. "Des, think about this. You-"

"Enough!" she turned and threw her cloak around her shoulders and turned to face him yet again. "You will see how mistaken you were, Brom," Without another word or a glance backward, she strode out of his humble home, leaving him without looking to see the man she had shattered.

~End of Flashback~

Brom sighed heavily as he wiped Eragon's brow free of sweat, heart heavy. He smiled wryly to himself; go figure that the two girls should really make him feel his age. He was missing them more and more by the minute, and he was way more than worried about them. The worst part for him is that he didn't know what had become of them. What had happened to Kierra after the Urgal had run off with her? And what had happened to Emilee after the lone horseman ran off with her? The only answers that met Brom's questions were that they were in deep, mortal danger, and he did not like the fact that he was sitting here helpless, waiting for the wound in Eragon to heal before he moved.

And that was another thing weighing heavily on Brom. Eragon. He had healed as much of the wound as he could, but the blade must have been tainted by some poison or that, causing it to heal at a much slower pace than usual. Oh, Brom had managed to, very meticulously and very carefully, scrape the poison out of the wound, and had managed to work with what he had to the best of his abilities, which were many, but... it wasn't healing quite like Brom had expected it to.

Brom wasn't quite sure how much more he could take of Eragon's pain. It was cutting into him as much as it was cutting into Eragon. It was physically painful to watch the young Rider suffer.

However, it was much more than that; runs way deeper than just the relationship that Brom and Eragon had formed over the fragmented years that they had spent together. Eragon was his son, and he had failed him in so many ways, just like he was failing with him now, unable to heal the wounds that plagued his own son.

Drawing a heavy and painful sigh, Brom went to swab Eragon's forehead again, when the young Rider gave a great gasp of air, and grabbed Brom's wrist rather painfully, opening his eyes, and using Brom to pull himself up. "Brom," he gasped, looking in the general direction that Brom was in. "Kierra,"

"It's okay, Eragon," soothed Brom, helping Eragon lay back down. "Be still, everything's alright."

Eragon looked around, confusion filling his usually sparkly eyes. "Where are we? What are we doing here? We need to rescue Kierra!" he said, trying to sit up, but failing against Brom's protest.

"Slow down, Eragon." Brom said, smiling slightly. "Everything will be alright. Kierra is-"

Eragon swatted at Brom's hand, giving the man a glare as hard as steel itself. "You know nothing!" he yelled, his voice echoing throughout the still air. "You have no idea what they are doing to her!"

"And you do?" Brom questioned, raising an eyebrow. "Eragon, you have to calm-"

"No, you listen to me, you old bard!" Eragon's heated voice rang through to Brom's very soul as the young man pulled himself into a sitting position. "You do not understand what they are doing to her. No idea whatsoever, and, quite frankly, I don't care what you say, I'm going to go after Kierra myself. If you wish to accompany me, then great."

"You can hardly even move, Eragon," snapped Brom, eye brows furrowing in frustration. "You need to start thinking rationally. Kierra is-"

Brom's lecture was hushed, and he looked around wildly, eyes unfocused. A spurt of blood escaped his lips as his throat suddenly ran dry, and he could feel himself go weak, and topple to the ground,

"That's what you get for interfering, old man," cackled a high, merciless voice into the air, sending chills up and down Eragon's spine.

Eragon looked wildly around for the source of the voice, but could not find it."Who are you?"


End file.
